


The Fourth Drink Instinct

by Arbryna



Series: A Different Kind of Normal [4]
Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Polyamory, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Bo out on a date with Dyson, Lauren and Tamsin find themselves drinking together at the Dal to pass the time. As it turns out, they get along a lot better than they ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fourth Drink Instinct

The glass bottle is chill against Tamsin's palm as she lifts it to pour herself another shot. Being a regular customer has its benefits—Trick has started keeping a bottle of vodka in the freezer just for her. Right now, the bottle is still mostly full; she'll have to do something about that. 

It's slow tonight in the Dal, which suits Tamsin just fine; there's less chance of some idiot swaggering over trying to buy her a drink (can they not _see_ the bottle sitting in front of her?). Most everyone in the fae world, at least around here, knows by now that she's got something going with Bo. Unfortunately, since Bo has something going with a few other people as well, quite a few dumbasses think that means she's open to making some new friends, too. As if any of them could come close to meeting her standards. 

Bo is busy tonight, and Kenzi's off doing… _something_ with Hale (Tamsin's pretty much given up trying to understand whatever _that_ is), and spending the evening alone in the clubhouse seemed just a little too boring. Tamsin's looking forward to a nice, quiet one-on-one date with some high quality (and high proof) booze. It's as good a way as any to pass the time.

Tamsin tosses back the next shot, shuddering in appreciation as the cool liquid slides down her throat. She's a long way from drunk—or even tipsy—but damn, she just loves the warm tingle that blossoms in her stomach when the liquor hits it. She slams the shot glass back down onto the bar, and that's when she notices that someone else has joined her at the bar, sitting a couple stools down from her. Even in her off-time, Lauren looks ridiculously professional: she slides off the supple brown leather jacket to reveal a crisp button-down shirt and jeans that Tamsin has a sneaking suspicion are probably ironed (who _does_ that?). She glances at Tamsin, gives her a polite nod and a reserved smile. 

Before Lauren left town, Tamsin had only seen her a handful of times—and never under the best circumstances. Now that she's back, they only see each other in passing. They're not exactly drinking buddies, but when Lauren predictably orders a glass of white wine, Tamsin can't help but snort. 

"If you're trying to get drunk, that shit's gonna take a while," Tamsin says, pouring herself another shot. 

"Actually, the opposite is true," Lauren replies, her eyes brightening a little. "See, high proof spirits—like, say, vodka—damage the lining of the stomach, causing the body to respond osmotically, flooding the area with water to minimize the effect, which slows the absorption of the ethanol into your bloodstream. Wine has a lower alcohol percentage, so it doesn't do as much damage, therefore causing you to feel the effects of the alcohol sooner." 

It's more words than they've ever said to each other at once. Lauren falls silent, her expression turning awkward as she turns to fiddle with her wine glass. Tamsin takes her next shot, trying to make sense of everything Lauren just said. Finally she just shrugs. 

"You're the scientist," Tamsin says, pouring more vodka into her glass. "I still think my way's more fun." 

Lauren sips at her wine, pondering. "You could be right," she concedes. A tentative smile plays at her lips as she eyes the bottle in front of Tamsin. "Although with you here, I'd be surprised if they had any vodka left." 

Tamsin gently spins her shot glass on the bar, considering her options. This could be an opportunity to get to know Lauren better; it's not something she'd usually be interested in, but if they're both going to be in Bo's life—and her bed—then it'd be nice if they could get along. She turns her head, glancing over at Lauren with a smirk. "If you ask nicely, I might be willing to share."

***

"…and the neutron says, 'I'm positive!'" Lauren finishes, giggling to herself at the joke. She's had a few shots, and she's definitely feeling the effects. When several moments pass and Tamsin's eyebrows only climb higher, Lauren sighs. "You don't get it."

"Sorry Doc," Tamsin says with a shrug. She pours herself another shot. "Test tubes and microscopes never really appealed to me. I'd rather be out there getting my hands dirty." 

It's not meant to be dirty—or at least, Lauren's pretty sure it's not—but she can't seem to get her mind out of the gutter. "I'm sure Bo's happy to help with that," she quips, reaching for the bottle to refill her own glass. 

Tamsin's shot glass freezes halfway to her mouth, vodka sloshing over onto her fingers. Her eyes narrow, searching Lauren's face for…something. It takes Lauren a second to realize that what Tamsin expects to find is jealousy. 

Interestingly enough, Lauren finds she doesn't really feel jealous of Tamsin. Now Dyson, he's another story—one with years of history, that she's not sure she'll ever get over—but any lingering bitterness she may have felt toward Tamsin seems to have dissolved in the half-bottle of vodka they've already polished off, in the discovery that without some nefarious hidden agenda, Tamsin is actually pretty fun to be around. Lauren offers a feeble smile, hoping the message gets across.

It seems to do the trick; Tamsin smirks, knocking back what remains of her shot. "You'd know," she says, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

"Mm," Lauren hums her agreement, nodding absently. "Indeed." Her mind floods with images—both memory and fantasy—of all the many ways that getting dirty with Bo could be very, very enjoyable. The vodka already warming her belly seems to catch fire, all of her muscles tightening deliciously, and she really, _really_ wishes Bo wasn't out with Dyson tonight.

Lauren draws a labored breath and downs another shot.

***

Several shots later, the bottle is getting dangerously close to empty, and Lauren is staring at Tamsin with something that looks like some drunken kind of awe. Tamsin shifts under the scrutiny, and decides to forgo the shot glass and take a swig directly from the bottle. "Okay, I know I'm hot, but the staring is kinda creepy."

It's hard to tell for sure, because the alcohol has already flushed Lauren's cheeks, but Tamsin swears she can see her blush. Lauren shakes her head a little as if to clear it, then presses a palm to her temple when the movement makes her dizzy. "I'm sorry, I just…" she says, meeting Tamsin's eyes again. She chuckles softly to herself. "I can't believe I slapped you."

Tamsin laughs at the memory. "It was a ballsy move, I'll give you that," she says, tilting her head toward Lauren. "Ballsy" doesn't even quite cover it, really; if it had been any other human, or if Tamsin hadn't had bigger goals in mind, Lauren wouldn't have survived it. "Didn't expect it from you."

"Well, that was your mistake," Lauren replies. Her fingers press against Tamsin's as she wraps them around the vodka bottle, tugging it out of her grasp. She tilts her head back, takes a hearty swallow before turning back to Tamsin with a crooked smirk. "I am just full of surprises." 

For the first time, Tamsin takes a second to consider her drinking companion. Her interest has always been in Bo, even before she was willing to admit that interest, but now that she lets herself think about it, Lauren has an appeal all her own—even if she is human. When Tamsin leans toward Lauren under the pretense of reclaiming the vodka bottle, even she isn't sure if it's out of genuine flirtation or because the temptation to tease Lauren is too strong to resist. Either way, she lets her voice drop, quirks an eyebrow as she holds Lauren's gaze. "Are you now?" 

She expects Lauren to blush, to retreat, to shrug it off with an awkward attempt at a joke; the last thing Tamsin expects is for Lauren to close the distance and kiss her.

***

Tamsin's lips part in shock, soft and still against Lauren's mouth. It only takes a second for Lauren to realize what she's doing, and she pulls back, pressing her hand to her lips. "I'm sorry," she says quickly, eyes wide. "I shouldn't have done that. Why did I just do that?"

This is insane. She's with Bo, she loves Bo—the main reason she took Tamsin up on her offer of vodka earlier was to make things less awkward between herself and the other woman in Bo's life. Why did she have to go and screw it up by making it _more_ awkward?

"Chill, Doc," Tamsin murmurs, a smirk sliding onto her lips. Her hand drops onto Lauren's thigh, burning through the denim of her jeans. "Did you hear me complaining?"

Lauren swallows roughly, frozen in place as Tamsin slides off of her stool to stand in front of her. The green in Tamsin's eyes is dark in the low light of the bar, glinting with hunger as Tamsin steps forward, wedging herself between Lauren's knees and resuming the kiss. Lauren's head is swimming from too much vodka, the taste of which lingers on Tamsin's tongue as it slips into Lauren's mouth. On instinct, Lauren raises her hands to Tamsin's face, cupping her cheeks as she kisses back eagerly. Tamsin's fingers dig into her hips, pulling as she presses closer. In her intoxicated state, all Lauren can think is that this feels good— _really_ good.

There's a reason it shouldn't, though; it takes a lot of effort, but finally it comes to her, and Lauren pulls away with a reluctant moan. "But, Bo—"

"Isn't here," Tamsin finishes, her lips brushing along Lauren's jaw. Her breath is hot against Lauren's ear. "In fact, she's probably riding wolfboy ragged right now, having the time of her life. You really think she'd blame us for having our own fun in the meantime?" Warm fingertips slip under the bottom of Lauren's shirt, nails scraping along the bare skin of her lower back. Lauren's breath catches as a shiver racks her body, and Tamsin's grin presses into her jaw. "You can't tell me you don't want it." 

Try as she might, Lauren can't make her liquor-soaked brain come up with a good argument. There's no use trying to deny her body's response; she can already feel moisture pooling between her legs, despite the massive dehydration she must be suffering from the alcohol. Tamsin's logic seems to make sense, at least enough for Lauren to slide her hands back, fingers tangling in blonde hair as she pulls Tamsin's lips back to hers.

***

Tamsin presses Lauren against the waist-high barrels in the back room, swallowing the moan that vibrates against her lips. Her hands move up from Lauren's hips to work at the buttons of her shirt, but she gives up halfway down, frustrated by her fingers' refusal to cooperate. It's enough, anyway, to allow her access to Lauren's bra-clad breasts. She pulls out of the kiss, drifting down to trace the lines of Lauren's collarbone with her tongue.

The soft sounds escaping Lauren's throat spur Tamsin on, and she slides her hands around to fumble with the clasp of Lauren's bra. It's still trapped by her shirt, but it loosens enough for Tamsin to work her hands under the cups, kneading at Lauren's breasts. Fingernails scrape against Tamsin's scalp as she's tugged back up to meet Lauren's lips once more. 

A groan rumbles deep in Tamsin's chest as Lauren's hips start to jerk forward more insistently. She slips her hands down over Lauren's ass, settling under her thighs and lifting until Lauren is perched on top of the barrel instead of being pressed against it. She wastes no time in finding the fly of Lauren's jeans, popping open the button and yanking down the zipper. She doesn't bother trying to remove the jeans completely; she just tugs them down far enough to be able to shove her hand under the band of Lauren's panties. Her fingertips are met with immediate and abundant wetness; Tamsin groans and moves her fingers lower, sliding into slick heat with little resistance. 

Lauren's fingers bite into Tamsin's shoulders as she thrusts against Tamsin's hand. Her hair is damp, clinging to the sides of her face, her neck; her shirt gapes open in the front, bra sagging low enough to expose most of her breasts; the look in her eyes is desperate and needy. Tamsin braces her free hand on Lauren's thigh, working her fingers in and out with increasing tempo.

***

Bo sighs heavily as she walks into the Dal. She's just gotten done having yet another fight with Dyson about his jealousy; he's been trying, but she's starting to feel like he's just never going to be okay with this whole situation. Right now, she's looking forward to many, many shots—and if she's lucky, a hot young thing to work out this overwhelming sexual frustration with. It really sucks being a succubus when your boyfriend decides he'd rather pick a fight than finish fucking you.

Scanning the tavern, Bo finds a disappointing shortage of patrons. Her heart sinks; she was sure Tamsin said she was going to be here tonight, and she's always happy to pick up her partner's slack when it comes to Bo's hunger. Maybe she went to one of her dark fae bars instead. 

Walking toward the bar, Bo notices a familiar jacket lying over one of the stools. She frowns; what's Lauren doing here? And with a near-empty bottle of vodka and two shot glasses? 

A muffled thump sounds behind the door to the back room. Curious, Bo moves closer, reaching for the handle.

***

Tamsin can feel Lauren starting to clench around her fingers and pumps faster, nibbling and sucking at Lauren's neck at the same time. From the way Lauren's breath is coming in quick gasps, her hips jerking to meet every thrust, Tamsin can tell she's close.

The sharp moan on Lauren's lips turns into a startled squeak, and her body tenses in a way that Tamsin knows is due to anything but pleasure. Pulling away from Lauren's neck, Tamsin follows her stunned gaze to where Bo is standing stock-still at the entrance to the room. 

"Bo…" Lauren starts, but she doesn't seem to have anything to follow it up with. 

Tensing, Tamsin slides her fingers out of Lauren, steeling herself for Bo's reaction. She's just _standing_ there, shock the only thing visible on her face. Anxiety roils in Tamsin's stomach; she's pretty sure this is okay—it should be, by all rules of logic and fairness—but it's not something they've actually talked about, and it's not like Tamsin's been out banging random people to find out. 

With her expression carefully neutral, Bo steps closer to them, curls her hand around Tamsin's wrist. Tamsin's fingers are still sticky with Lauren's arousal. Anxiety melts into desire, flushing Tamsin's body with heat as Bo slowly and deliberately lifts Tamsin's hand to her lips. Dark eyes flash a brilliant, electric blue as she slides each finger into her mouth, her tongue warm and slick as it methodically cleans the digits of every last taste of Lauren. 

"So," Bo says, when she finally releases Tamsin's hand. Her lips curl into a seductive smirk as she glances between Tamsin and Lauren. "Does this mean you won't hit me if I suggest a threesome?"


End file.
